Build Me Up (NaNoWriMo)

Day 29 (1,326 words)

Kristen almost jumped when Ford slammed his truck door shut. He was mad. She had expected it, but her heart still beat just a little bit faster. Once the permit went through, Quinlan Bankhead had received a notification. If he hadn’t confronted her about it, she might have hid the fact from him. That alone had been enough to scare her – her instinct to protect Ford’s interests over her own.

She’d done the best she could under the circumstances, and soon he’d come to see that, too.

“Miss Barnes, a word?” he practically snarled at her, not waiting for her response before striding over to his office trailer, simply expecting her to fall in line. She wrapped up her conversation with Hal, one of Ford’s men, and followed him into the trailer.

The second she’d closed the door behind them, he rounded on her.

“What the hell did you do?”

“Ford. Listen…”

“You waited until I was sick to demolish my family’s old house? Was that just a happy coincidence or did you plan it all along?”

The accusation wasn’t only insulting, but ridiculous, too. “Yes, Ford, I lured my way into your home so that I could sneak a cold virus into your food and make sure you stayed out of my way while I finished my evil scheme,” she snorted.

“Then what do you call that?” Ford retorted, his arm stretched to indicate the vacant lot where the cottage once stood.

“I didn’t have a choice, okay? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the decision maker here.”

“Why not?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you acting like some kind of errand girl? Why aren’t you telling Bankhead what you really think?”

“I’m sorry, are you serious? You, if anyone, know that work isn’t about making all the decisions for yourself. It’s about what the client wants.”

“I’m an independent contractor, Kristen. You’re an architect. If you don’t like something, you can at least speak up about it.”

“And say hello to unemployment?”

“Did you even try? Did you even say, ‘hey, maybe tearing down a century-old house isn’t the best idea’?”

“What does it matter? The outcome is still the same.”

“It matters because if you cared even just a little bit about me, about this town, you would have spoken up.”

“Oh, you’re just… ugh!” Kristen exclaimed, feeling on the edge of pulling her hair out. “Come on,” she said and flung open the door, heading back outside.

“Where are you going?” Ford demanded, following her over to her rental car.

“Get in,” she ordered, opening the passenger door for him.

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re the one who said you wanted me to take charge. I’m taking charge. Get in the freaking car.”

She muttered to herself as she walked around to the driver’s side, mostly bad words to describe Ford’s fascinating character traits and the things she wanted to do to him – that most certainly didn’t involve a bed of any kind.

The drive was tense, with both of them stewing in anger. She never ceased to be amazed by how quickly Ford could turn her moods around. If he was being grumpy, she got snappish. If he was teasing her, she was ready to play. In no way were they suited for each other. Happy couples were supposed to complete each other – to make up for what the other was lacking and make a whole, fully functional human being. They weren’t supposed to burn on all cylinders. Couples like that burned out eventually.

Ford didn’t speak. Opening his mouth around Kristen at the moment wouldn’t do anyone any good. She was gripping the steering wheel with both hands and talking to herself. He couldn’t make out the words, but he was pretty sure they were about him – and not happy ones.

Okay, so maybe he’d come on a little strong. She was right, he knew what it was like to take orders. Hadn’t he himself accepted the contracting job from Quinlan Bankhead, after all? But even so, he felt betrayed. Maybe getting involved with Kristen had been a mistake – opening himself up for betrayal again.

No. He didn’t regret it. Getting to know Kristen was the best thing that had happened to him since Suzy left. He didn’t know where she was driving them or how long they were going to stay angry, but eventually the anger would give way for passion.

Kristen made a turn and he looked around to see they were driving up the coast on the opposite side of the bay. He didn’t come here often, but he knew a few people who lived up this way.

As Kristen cleared a rock outcropping, a construction site came into view. He frowned. No-one did construction work in this town without him knowing about it. He frowned even harder when Kristen pulled up and parked the car.

“What are we doing here?”

“See that foundation over there?” Kristen said and pointed to a slab of concrete sitting on top of the hill.

“Yeah?”

“And that house coming up the road?” she pointed to a flatbed truck carting what was in fact a whole house up the less step road leading up the coast.

“You… is that…?” Ford squinted. It looked a lot like the old cottage. On wheels.

“The building permit came through. Both of them, in fact.”

“Huh?”

“You know I had to file for a permit to remove the cottage in favor of Bankhead’s new house? Well, a few months ago, I filed for a second permit. To move the cottage to a new property.”

“I don’t… this isn’t my property,” Ford frowned, trying to make sense of what she was saying.

“I have a document that says it is,” she said and reached into her bag, pulling out an envelope that had clearly been opened. She handed it over and he just stared at it for awhile before pulling out the piece of paper inside.

“Well, to be specific, it’s Annabelle’s. But you’re the trustee and occupant until such time she decides to move to Greenport permanently, which, frankly, I don’t see happening. I had my lawyer friend draw up the papers.”

“But… this property… it’s…”

“The people in this town love you, Ford. The Bowman’s had planned to build on this property, but now that their youngest is moving to Florida and none of the other kids want to keep a summer home up here, they were looking to sell. Especially to someone like you.”

Ford looked over at her. Her voice had softened, and so had her eyes. He wanted to kiss her. He figured that if he wasn’t going to hold back from letting her know when he was upset, the same should go for the opposite sentiment.

Her lips were chapped from the cold they’d been having, but they were still soft under his. Her little gasp of surprise let him taste her even further. His fingers tangled in her hair as he drank deep.

“We need to talk about this,” he said as he released her. “It’s too much…”

“Are you going to waste both our time being stubborn about it, or are you going to say thank you and start helping me with the interior redesign?” Kristen said, her bossy side shining through loud and clear. “We’re on a schedule here, you know.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he tipped an imaginary hat to her, a grin tugging at his lips.

“And while we’re at it – I’d like to redo Annabelle’s room – if she’s okay with it.”

“Does this mean you won’t be occupying that room any longer?”

“If you’ll let me put up new wallpaper in the master bedroom.”

“Anything else?” he asked, fully amused now.

“Have you ever considered a walk-in closet?”

Ford chose to give her a non-verbal response to her question, pulling her close again and fitting his lips to hers. Maybe there was hope for them yet.